The Lightning Strike: A Sequel to Omnia Iusta Sunt Amore Belloque
by SpaceAstronautCapt.RobotKoala
Summary: Alex Rider & Addie Daniels are continuing with their lives after their previous encounter left a bittersweet ending involving a dead friend and newfound love. Unlike Alex, Addie goes undercover in Hollywood for one last mission with the CIA but quickly learns that someone likes to play dirty and deadly. When Alex becomes a pawn, can they both survive? Or is there only room for one?
1. Prologue

**Note: **Alésia is pronounced "ah-LAY-see-uh".

I own nothing except the products of my imagination... Enjoy! :)

_~The Lightning Strike~_

Prologue

The room was bland, very bland. The walls were the dullest shade of grey, plain and probably intended to keep anyone from staring at the hideous color. That left the table, chairs, and single window. I sat in one of the hard metal chairs on one side of the equally hard metal table but all I could look at was the surface before me. I knew, without having spared it one glance, that the window was one-way glass, allowing whoever was on the other side to see me but me rendered clueless.

I kept my hands folded neatly in my lap, aware of the fact that if they weren't, they would be shaking uncontrollably. It took a lot of practice being able to appear calm and collected on the outside, but there was nothing I could do about my racing heart, upset stomach, and clammy skin. As subtly as I could manage, I attempted to take discreet breaths to lower my heart rate: in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose, out through the mouth… I quickly realized that it wasn't the best idea, not when the room faintly reeked of mustiness and cheap cologne.

The heavy metal door in the corner opened with a click, revealing a woman in her early thirties. Just before it closed, I caught the outline of a man standing guard outside. As she took the chair directly in front of me, I allowed myself two seconds to appraise her appearance and manner. She was a woman of power and did little to conceal it. Her posture was perfectly straight and erect and she moved with the air of someone who fully believed they owned everything within a twenty-foot radius. I couldn't have found as much as a piece of lint on her blue power suit even if I had the world's best dust collector. Dark brown hair barely brushed the tops of her shoulders and a very solemn, no-bull expression occupied her face. Her eyes, which I had saved for last, were stony grey… and that was it. I wanted to say that they were deadly or daunting but perhaps that was because I didn't want to believe that someone's gaze could be so flat and emotionless. Or, like most other times, I was overthinking it, possibly in an attempt to distract myself from the matter at hand.

"What is your name?"

Something told me that she already knew and that this was only part of the process. There was no inquisitive note in her voice but by the way she stared at me, I decided that it was best to play by her rules. I subconsciously recalled the instructions that I had been given—that time felt so long ago—and figured that this situation was no exception.

"Alésia," I answered shortly. She continued to stare at me and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Alésia Cali," I added.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty years old."

"Date of birth?"

"June 10, 1984."

"Place of birth?"

"Melbourne, Australia."

It continued like this for another eight or so questions, all concerning my identity. I was half considering whether or not I should tell her to get to the point when the questions suddenly became interrogative, turning what was beginning to feel like an interview into a real cross-examination.

"Where were you yesterday afternoon at approximately four o' clock?"

There was no change in her tone but it seemed as if the woman was finally showing some real emotions, flashes of something in her eyes as she waited for my response.

"I was on the roof of the United Nations Headquarters." I was careful to keep my voice controlled. We were approaching a topic I wasn't sure I could discuss without accessing the memories.

"And what were you doing there?"

"I was trying to defuse a bomb."

She raised her head the slightest bit, never removing her gaze from mine, and continued, "What happened?"

Immediately, and without my intention, my mind flashed to the moment on top of that building when God had decided to change the game as if the fate of the world in my hands wasn't enough.

"What happened?" she repeated with a little more force.

As I cast my thoughts back to the memories, her stony face started to fade and I began to relive them in my mind's eye.

_The small black box beeped and a robotic female voice announced, "Two minutes until detonation." As I struggled to keep my head clear and rein in the panic, I saw a flash of movement to my left but wasted no time. My hand went to the gun at my waist but when I spun around to shoot, I was facing empty air._

_Something hard jammed into my temple and knocked me over. I felt the gun fall from my hands as I collapsed and rolled onto my back, the world fading in and out of darkness as my head throbbed with excruciating pain. A dark masked figure loomed and wavered overhead but a tiny part of my mind that was still functioning forced me to roll once again and get onto my feet. His leg came up and I brought my arms to block the roundhouse before striking back._

_Back and forth across the rooftop and under the blue sky we exchanged attacks and blows like a couple on the dance floor. There was never a space of time that wasn't taken by one of us throwing a punch or sweeping a leg. I soon realized that my assailant was very quick and the blow I'd taken to the head slowed me. One time his foot connected to my abdomen, slamming me backward and knocking the breath out of me. If it weren't for my desperate want to live and defuse the bomb, I wouldn't have shoved aside the agony, jumped onto my feet, and picked up where we left off._

"I don't need to know your moments of triumph or who had the best roundhouse. I need to know what happened."

I bit my tongue in an effort to refrain from any smart remarks. "Eventually I managed to incapacitate him," I continued, keeping my eyes on the table, "long enough to retrieve the gun I'd lost earlier. That was when the bomb issued a sixty-second warning."

_Turning to the man on the ground, I briefly considered the fact that I might have successfully knocked him unconscious. But the moment I stepped forward to tend to the bomb, I saw him lift a hand from the ground._

_My reaction was instinctive and thoughtless._

_After a few moments, I lowered the gun although the adrenaline never left me. I wasn't sure why but it occurred to me that I wanted to see his face. There was less than a minute on the timer and I—bruised, limping, and essentially the one held accountable for the entire world's future—was insane enough to be curious about who had attacked me. Dropping to my knees, I reached for the ski mask, which was already soaked through with blood, and pulled it off._

"Did you recognize their face?"

I looked up, almost having forgotten that I'd been in the middle of telling a story. The woman (whose name still remained unbeknownst to me) was watching me carefully but I swore there was a change in her demeanor, one I couldn't easily put my finger on. "Yes."

"What was the name of this person?"

His face flooded my mind against my will and I felt my stomach twist with such discomfort and anguish I could feel my mouth starting to salivate, that dreaded first symptom that made me wish there was a trash can in the room. The way his hair had been plastered to his skin in sweat and blood was permanently burned into my brain. His expression… the lack of expression that could've passed him off as sleeping only made me clench my hands and shut my eyes, no longer able to maintain the "calm and collected" façade. Suddenly it felt like someone had turned the heat up. My body hiccupped and I willed with every fiber of my being that my stomach keep it down.

"Alésia." Her voice was emphatic. "The name."

Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and then my mouth but I refused to look at her. My voice croaked and choked around the words despite my effort to sound intelligible. They were four syllables I just couldn't seem to speak.

"I can't understand you."

Slowly and deliberately, I raised my eyes to meet hers... Then I told her in a soft but clear voice, "Alex Rider. His name was Alex Rider."

* * *

**Note: **And so I present to you the long-awaited sequel to _Omnia Iusta Sunt Amore Belloque_ :) For my readers that have read the first fic, I'm sorry I took so long with this sequel but I _am _a senior in high school so I am always caught up in busy busy things. Needless to say, I can't guarantee that the next update will come quickly either :( I apologize profusely for that because I really do enjoy writing for you guys, especially when you're so supportive, and it's frustrating when I don't have time and sad when I receive a PM or comment asking about updating. I try my best but do keep in mind that i have other fanfics waiting for me... but then again, OISAB is the one that gets the most attention and still does haha.

New readers! Hello there :) I'm not going to demand that you read OISAB since, like any other sequel should, this one will be written assuming you know nothing. I do encourage you to at least skim through it a bit to get a feel for my OCs and what went down in the story but it is totally up to you! If you have questions, feel free to ask and I'd be happy to fill you in!

One more thing before I stop this AN that's getting too long (that always happens, I have too much to say). I am going to honestly admit that I am very scared for this plot I've set out. I received such great feedback for OISAB that not only did I feel pressure for making this sequel just as good if not better, but I kept feeling that I was fresh out of ideas and couldn't decide between what I'd come up with. My brain is now being used for school and other life problems and I don't get to write all day, every day like I did for OISAB during the summer (no joke, I really did do that). So I hope this works out because I spent quite a bunch of time mulling over ideas and getting a feel for what could (hopefully) be another Alex Rider hit!

Please please review! I will be forever thankful and love you forever if you do. And maybe give you a snickerdoodle.

xx


	2. Chapter 1 - We Lost Him

**Note: **Hello everyone :) Thank you guys so much for the feedback for the beginning of this story, I really appreciate it. I do, however, have several things to address (which means another long AN... sorry! lol)

1. I am so sorry for the wait. I really did not expect the first chapter to take two months to post but it did and I apologize profusely! Being a senior is hard work and my AP classes are killing me. Don't worry, I'm still doing my best to manage my time better :)

2. My family is moving very soon so we are quite busy with packing and finding a place to stay while our new house is being built. Busy busy busy.

3. My laptop has failed me and the only resource I can rely on is this lovely app Evernote that allows me to access my documents from my iPhone, Kindle Fire, & family computer. Yes, everything written after January of this year is on Evernote, so I've pretty much lost everything else that's on my laptop :( Yes, I can also use the computer to write but it's pretty old and has shut down on me in the middle of schoolwork, so I've deemed it untrustworthy. What does all this mean? I've been writing on my iPhone and Kindle, just for you guys. Let's just say that my thumbs have been getting a workout haha!

4. If you haven't guessed already, this takes place several years after Scorpia Rising. Read at your own risk and _don't _say I didn't warn you.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this update. I own nothing but the products of my imagination.

**PART ONE:** What If This Storm Ends?

_What if this storm ends?_  
_And I don't see you_  
_As you are now_  
_Ever again_

_A perfect halo_  
_Of gold hair and lightning_  
_Sets you off against_  
_The planet's last dance_  
_..._  
_I want to see you_  
_As you are now_  
_Every single day_  
_That I am living_

_Painted in flames_  
_All peeling thunder_  
_Be the lightning in me_  
_That strikes relentless_  
~

Chapter One - We Lost Him

**June 2005**

-Addie-

It was my third funeral so far.

The smell of wet grass hung heavily in the air and the accompanying chill rose goosebumps on bare skin. Rain fell lightly, softly, like shards of broken stars that no longer knew their place. What overpowered them all was the gray cloud of pain, sorrow, and black despair that loomed above, unrelenting and unforgiving. I sat immobile in the hard plastic chair, the itchy black dress doing little to distract me from my thoughts. Black umbrellas hung over our heads, protecting us from the crying sky. A few seats down the row she was crying too, muffled sobs that couldn't seem to drown out the pastor's somber tone as he droned on about "this young man's unquestionable but, unfortunately, short-lived years of dedication and patriotism." I didn't have it in me to wonder if he'd written those words himself. All I could think was that he obviously didn't know enough.

I couldn't cry, at least not in the way she was. Ashamed, reluctant, but all the more unable to help it. No, my tears would have been liberated and hot with anger and frustration. I would have been unafraid to fall to my knees, pounding the ground with my fists and shrieking at the sky, _Why? Why, why, why?_ Asking God whywhywhy... And then I wouldn't have gotten an answer... because He hadn't given me one when my brother had died.

But still I didn't cry. Instead I watched with numbness the rifle party that was assembled about fifty feet away, seven dark and identical figures that stood out in stark contrast in the midst of the gray-white tombstones. With practiced precision and in unison, they raised their rifles to the sky at an angle. I couldn't hear their commands through the rain, but the three distinct shots fired at a slow interval were unmistakable. In response, images from the past flickered and flashed in my mind's eye of this exact same circumstance, only twenty-three months ago. It was easy, recalling my mother's wails and my father's desperate but useless attempts at comfort. The gnawing agony and confusion I had in me were unbearable that day, too intensified for me to believe it was real.

My great-grandmother's funeral had barely meant anything to me. A thumb-sucking, doll-loving four-year-old knew nothing about the world six feet under... nor should she. That isn't to say I was oblivious for too long; by eight years old, I was missing her powdery kisses and the creaky rocking chair that I can still hear to this day. My memories of her were old and frail, just as she had been before her heart had decided to give up. But I held on to them, kept them in a jar on the top shelf of my mind.

Joshua had died by the hands of an international criminal, a long sought after man of corruption, greed, and treachery. This man, Adrian Castillo, had worked with Scorpia in the past and made Al Capone look like Mother Theresa. After having taken my brother away from my family on his first major assignment as a CIA agent, he'd then decided to go after his teenage little sister. His little sister whom he'd taught and protected, befriended and made fun of. He'd loved her, played pranks on her, and let her beat him in arm wrestling matches. He'd told her that it was his duty to serve and protect their country, that he was always going to be there for her... that he'd come home in time for her seventeenth birthday.

David Reyes had been on that assignment in Mexico with him when he'd been killed. David, who was now my former unit leader, lay in the casket before me, shut away from the life he was once part of. This military funeral service was commemorating only what people could bring themselves to remember of him, the side of him that was worthy of grieving. I was one of the unlucky few to know that the corpse that was once a man, a father, a brother, a husband, and a friend had been something else.

He'd also been a traitor.

The bugler was sounding "Taps", the short customary bugle call that used to signal "lights out" when a day was done. I couldn't help but think that there was a double meaning in it: to the living, it was a shuddering awakening, a painful snap back to reality where mortality crept at every corner... and to the dead, it was finality. The end. Lights out for good.

Before I knew it, the honor guard had systematically and ceremonially folded the American flag draped over the casket. One of the officers made his way over to the woman two seats to my right who was still struggling to stifle her tears. I heard the murmur of his condolences, watched the young widow reach for the folded flag. Her hands were trembling as they cradled it to her chest, right above the baby who was due anytime soon. Just as I had been with my great-grandmother, that boy was never going to understand why his dad wasn't around. He wouldn't know for years. But unlike me, he'd never gotten to know him or be held by him. He would grow up without ever seeing him with his own eyes.

Swallowing hard, I forced myself to look away. My throat was closing up but I refused to give in to my emotions. I didn't want to cry, not here, not now. Hoping for a distraction was useless; every thought my mind encountered brought me back to this moment. If only I could turn it off and escape from brutal reality for just a few minutes... I could be somewhat close to okay.

There was a hand on my shoulder. I glanced up to find my mother watching me with dark, solemn eyes. "It's over now, sweetheart," she told me quietly. Around us, people were moving in slow, distorted rhythm as they made their way across the cemetery to the road. Some remained in small clusters, waiting patiently for Amelia as she stood in front of her ex-husband's grave, staring at where the casket used to be. Others stood by as they exchanged low whispers, their voices carrying the grief and gravity this day was being defined by. One of them was Mr. Garcia, head of the CIA. Watching him, I wondered what it was like to be in his position, knowing there were his own people not only risking their lives but losing them almost every day.

As I rose to my feet, my dad wrapped an arm around my shoulders. If he'd been expecting me to collapse, I didn't blame him. The three of us started towards the road, our feet sinking softly in the wet ground with each step. It was when Mom was asking if I wanted to go to the reception that Amelia took her eyes off the grave and looked at me. In that moment, the world and time both stopped, and I could feel myself falling into her eyes, splashing into the anguish and hurt, and swimming around in an ocean of confusion that left me helpless and vulnerable.

She smiled. It was too weak to be genuine but it proved that there was a part of her that was above this ground, that was still alive. At the same time it lacked the ferocity, the viciousness, the hatred that she might've felt had she known the truth. If anyone had decided to tell her, she probably wouldn't have let me come to this funeral. She would have refused to believe that her husband had been trying to kill me three weeks ago. She would be in a different kind of denial if there was such a thing... but most of all, she wouldn't be smiling.

"Addie..." I tore my gaze away from Amelia's at the sound of my name and it was like the breaking the surface of arctic water. My parents were both looking at me expectantly but with quiet patience. Looking back at the other woman, I saw that she was once again staring at the ground, as if the odd connection I'd felt between us had never happened.

"No," I answered them in a voice even I could barely hear. "I just wanna go home." Mom squeezed my hand as we approached the Range Rover and I was all too eager to climb in. I wasn't sure why, but I spared a glance out the window. Through the mist of rain it was easy to pick out David's tombstone, surrounded still by a few black-clad mourners, including Amelia. While we drove away, I sat back, unable to watch the numerous tombstones identical to David's pass by. Absentmindedly, I was twisting the silver ring on my index finger, the birthday present Joshua hadn't been able to give to me.

"I managed to retrieve this from his pocket," David had said almost two years ago, holding out the soft jewelry bag towards me. "It's... it's your birthday present. From him."

And little had I known that just a short while later, he would be threatened and blackmailed by none other than Castillo, forced to conjure up a plan that would ultimately leave me dead, just like my brother.

Alex's words echoed in my head, the words he'd spoken to me the day I'd found out about David's betrayal. _"Miss him as you knew him: the family friend, the man who taught you and protected you… But don't dwell on anything other than that. That other part of him isn't worth your tears."_

And then he was there, holding me, comforting me, telling me it was going to be okay. I could feel his fingers brushing across my cheeks, wiping away the tears he'd said I was allowed to cry. Alex, the one I trusted, the one who'd fought for my life over his own. Alex, the strongest person I'd ever known, the hero I knew I'd never be.

And Alex, the one that I'd fallen in love with, also turned out to be right in the very end: I had no reason to hold back.

As I sat there in the backseat, clutching the ring in my hand, I let down my walls and began to cry.

* * *

I was born in 1986 to Joseph and Margot Daniels, two adults in their early thirties searching for something in an era of big hair, fluorescent colors, cassette tapes, and Madonna. My brother Joshua was five years old, a charming but thoughtful little boy who believed the only things that mattered in life were skateboarding, mac and cheese, and his Boba Fett action figure that he always kept in his pocket. Mom and Dad both were working people but their jobs were distinctly different: she was a highly trained field agent but he was a computer nerd that worked with other computer nerds. The only connection was that they were both part of the CIA.

Joshua and I grew up always in awe of our parents. They were like superheroes to us, Superman and Cat Woman, fighting to instill justice and peace in the world for the greater good. The father I have now isn't much different than the one back then. In the eighties, Dad was one of the first of many to buy the new Walkman... but probably the only one to take it apart, note the pros and cons and what could be improved, and write a letter to Sony about his review and suggestions. He listened to U2 and Bon Jovi, built his own version of the Atari game console, flipped ollies on his board, and left love notes around the house for my mom. Today he's pretty much exactly the same despite the fact that he hasn't touched a skateboard for a decade and, in spite of his tech wisdom, still hasn't figured out how to work any machine or appliance associated with cooking.

As for my mother... working as an agent was hardly her biggest trouble—we were. Her two kids were her life then but she still remained dedicated and earnest with her occupation outside of being a parent. Obsessed with Phil Collins and having a long-held distaste for gardening, Mom hardly seemed the highly valued agent she apparently was. Regardless, in the world of espionage "the stability of your mind and body are put to the test and you can't afford to fail. After you see even half the things I have, humanity, the question of morality, and even your life and the people in it start to mean something to you." These were her words to me when I'd turned thirteen, an age at which I was supposedly mature enough to bear learning about certain things, like the fact that she didn't actually work in a cubicle every day. When enough time had passed by, I began to understand what she'd meant.

Mom and Dad expected a lot from us. They taught us the importance of compassion, the meaning of responsibility, and the courage to recognize our own mistakes. They wanted us to have good character and be ourselves all the same. In the end, we were supposed to realize one thing: you can't fool yourself into thinking the world owes you anything, not when you don't give it anything in the first place, and especially not when you don't deserve it.

Some people might have seen these expectations as too much for kids who were barely in middle school, but maybe they just didn't understand the potential our parents saw in us. Josh knew what he wanted to do by the time he started seventh grade and nothing could have stopped him or changed his mind. Wanting to follow in the footsteps of our mother, he stepped up his participation in karate, which he'd begun only a year before, and threw himself into his schoolwork and community. Top ten percent of his class every year of his high school career, on the riflery team, a tennis player, tutor, volunteer on the weekends, and an overall well-respected young man that people couldn't help but talk about and admire... he was all of these.

Yet sometimes being the best person you could be isn't enough.

When he died in July of 2003, I felt that I'd lost everything. He'd been my role model, my best friend, idol, teacher, and nonetheless my brother. I hadn't been as great as he was in high school, but I'd tried. I'd started competitive swimming in elementary school and even swam my way into state championships my freshman year. Like him, I attempted to be as fluent as possible in all the common languages, mainly Spanish and French. I gave my time to local animal shelters, learned karate, and even won a few art competitions when my drawings turned out more than decent. I tried to put myself out there as much as I could but it all still was nothing compared to what Joshua had accomplished. Losing him was like losing all that I'd been striving for... My dreams, my goals, my future. Me.

I didn't think I was ready or tough enough to handle being in the field like my mom was so I'd told myself I'd do whatever it took to put my skills and determination to use, to help the world around me, and to give someone a reason to hope. All that disappeared the moment I knew he was gone. If he died trying, what did that say about me? Someone who wasn't as academically adept, had decent and mediocre math skills, often lost karate spars, and had a temper whenever her swim team lost a meet? There was no way I was going to be able to do anything more when my brother hadn't been able to make it at all.

I'd thought I would need therapy. I'd thought I would need to quit school, to give up and live at home for the rest of my life, never building my future, never taking risks or making mistakes because no one would be able to help me. But eventually I realized what I needed, what I _wanted_ was revenge. That was how I believed I could make myself feel better. I still don't know how I managed to do it but I went to David Reyes, begging and demanding that he get me in the agency so I could continue what my brother had barely been given the chance to start. It took a lot of fighting against my parents... blood, sweat, and tears were shed over months but after almost half a year, I was part of David's unit.

In retrospect, I see now that I had never spent much time contemplating when I'd decide it was enough. Did I plan on devoting the rest of my life to the CIA, always a potential target, always putting myself and the ones I love at risk? Or was my prime target really only Adrian Castillo? What exactly was I looking for? And, more importantly... when was it going to end?

* * *

"It has to end now, Addie."

My mother followed me into my temporary bedroom as I threw the shopping bags onto the bed with barely restrained force. Anger boiled under my skin and my hands were shaking but I tried to busy myself anyway, dumping the brand new clothes on the comforter. Just minutes ago, we'd gotten back from a last minute shopping spree before I moved from here, home sweet Virginia, to my new home down in Los Angeles, California for college. I had brought up the subject of me continuing my field work there, expecting them to agree and discuss it with me, but instead was met with strongly voiced opinions that were dead set against it. It didn't make sense because it was something we'd already talked about several weeks earlier with not only my old team but Anthony Payne, second in command of the CIA. It wasn't exactly a normal thing, but my temper escalated quickly and I'd found myself already lashing out at them.

While trying to organize the clothing in a rather hostile manner, I didn't spare Mom a glance as I replied coldly, "No, it doesn't, Mom."

"Addie, this can't go on any longer." My dad appeared behind her and was wearing the same aggravated expression as she was. "It's too dangerous and we won't be down there with you."

"Dad, I think we all know that even having my parents around doesn't always help," I answered, turning and giving them a look that would remind them of their kidnapping not long ago.

Mom's eyes sparked. "Stop this _right_ _now, _Addison. You're upset and I understand that but you can't _possibly_ believe that it would be a good idea to continue being a CIA agent! Not after everything that's happened."

"We let you join David's unit when you were still a minor because somehow we believed it would help you get over Joshua," Dad jumped in, "but now we see how it wasn't meant to last long... Addie." His voice softened but remained firm. "Look at what happened just a few months ago. You were nearly blown up by a gas station because you were _targeted_ by Adrian Castillo, forcing the CIA to call in Alex. And then David—" He stopped, suddenly aware of what he was about to say.

Glancing away, I swallowed hard and flexed my hands open and closed, trying to keep from clenching them too hard. "I think I know exactly what happened to David." Amelia's face flashed in my mind, her eyes dead with grief. Before Dad could say anything, I shook my head and turned to the suitcase on the floor, hauling it onto the bed. "Whatever. I'm still doing it. I'm almost nineteen and you can't do anything about it." It was a pathetic and typical excuse, I knew that, but I needed them out of my hair. I wasn't in the mood to argue about anything, especially this.

"And we're your parents, Addie!" Mom snapped back, stepping closer and trying to get me to look at her. "We have a right to worry over you and keep you from making stupid mistakes like this one! We're just trying to be your parents here."

A sudden, hot rush of anger surged through me and I snatched the pair of jeans I'd been trying to pack and threw them across from me as hard as I could. They hit the wall above the bed's headboard as I yelled at her, "And _I'm _just trying to be your daughter!" She jerked back in astonishment, her eyes widening. "You've always been the ones who told me I needed to do things for others, to find a way to make the world a better place but _you're keeping me from it._ There are people out there like Castillo who have no _heart_, no _mercy_, no second thoughts when it comes to taking away the people I care about most... and I want to get rid of them!"

Before I knew it, the words were tumbling out without bothering to be processed by my brain. "We lost Joshua, Mom!" My eyes began to water but I could see the emotions break my mother's features at the mention of his name. "We lost him! Maybe he was at the wrong place at the wrong time or maybe it just wasn't meant to be," I told her in a trembling voice. "We're just another one of the unlucky families that have to be one short at dinner, that have to get used to saying that they're okay. But I can't sit around knowing he wanted to change something."

I wiped at my eyes and forced myself to look at the bed though I couldn't actually see it. It was only my brother's face in my mind. "I know you want me to be safe," I said, quieter this time, trying to concentrate on the floral bedding, "and I know you want me to be happy. But I also know that whether or not I'm an agent, I'll never be one hundred percent safe."

I hadn't expected us to come to this, but it was probably inevitable anyway. Josh was the reason I'd started this in the first place... and I didn't want them to stop me. Glancing up, I looked at both of my parents, trying to keep my voice even. "If you want me to be happy, _listen to me_ then: I can't go through life knowing I quit what he started. No matter how small or dangerous the job is, I've gathered enough courage and determination over the years to know I can do almost anything... and I learned that from _you._ Even though I'll never be the person Josh was, just let me try and make something of myself." I met Mom's eyes, seeing pain and desperation in them... and realized it mirrored my own. "If I have to... I'll die trying," I whispered. The words hit me with such force they broke what was left of the walls I'd been struggling to hold up. Hot tears flowed freely down my cheeks and blurred my vision.

Mom's voice was weak as she choked, "Addie, I—"

Without another word, I turned and brushed past my dad, who was standing in shocked silence by the door. I heard her call for me again as I hurried down the stairs and grabbed the car keys from the kitchen table. Unsure of where I was going or why, I left the front door open and sped from the driveway, eager to be anywhere but home.

* * *

**Note: **Another thing: this entire story was inspired by Snow Patrol's song "The Lightning Strike." A really good song, made me cry. It's actually 16 mins long because it's made up of 3 parts but it's better known by part one which is mainly what the sequel is based on. Even so, this will also be split up into 3 parts, each based on the corresponding piece of Snow Patrol's awesome creation... Yep! I commend you if you recognized the title the first time (;

Please please review!


	3. Chapter 2 - We'll Be Alright

**Note: **Took a little more than I said it would but here it is, a new chapter. I've graduated and gotten myself a job, so perhaps that still allows for some free time with writing... Anyway, I'm not too happy with this update; it's a bit short but it'll have to do :P

Chapter Two - We'll Be Alright

-Alex-

"Who's on dinner tonight?"

I was sitting at my desk surrounded by textbooks, notebooks, and papers. Tom lay sprawled on the floor beside me, having come into my room about half an hour ago to prod me with questions about his own homework. We both looked up to see Jack walk in, holding an open bag of potato chips.

"Tom," I replied without missing a beat and turned back to my work.

"What? No, I bought Chinese last night!" he protested, sitting up.

"And it was terrible."

"That's because you ate the leftovers three hours after I brought it home."

"What about that one other time you got Chinese food? Jack was absolutely sick the next day. I'm beginning to think this special restaurant you're so infatuated with is the city sewage system."

From where he lounged across my bed, Jack shoved a chip into his mouth as his eyes widened at my mention of his becoming sick. "I remember that! Yeah, I don't know why I even gave that food a second chance last night."

"Well, you aren't sick, are you?" Tom muttered from the floor.

"I think _I'll _be in a moment," I answered, giving an exaggerated shudder.

"Why don't _you _find us something tonight then, Alex, if you're so disgusted by my taste in food?"

"I've got homework to do." To make my point, I turned back to the thick textbook in front of me.

He only scoffed. "What about you, Jack? You're the only one out of the three of us that can actually cook."

"The fridge and pantry are bare. I can't cook anything if there are no groceries. Unless you want a block of cheddar cheese and Fruit Loops for dinner tonight, I suggest you find us some McDonald's and not any of that Chinese crap."

"Then go to the store, you idiot, and buy us some real food!"

As they continued to bicker, I glanced at my watch and sighed. It was already eight in the evening and we were all starving. Ever since we'd all begun living together over a year ago, an irregular schedule for meals had been established between the three of us. In theory, we just took turns right after another but that routine hadn't lasted more than a few weeks. We had different school and work schedules, so eventually it came down to whoever was less busy, had the most money, or broke under the pressure the other two guys were inflicting.

Right now the responsibility was being juggled between Tom and Jack. According to Jack, Tom needed to make up for the times he'd brought that Chinese food home. In Tom's eyes, however, Jack was essentially the only one who could go grocery shopping and do it correctly, then cook a real meal for us. I had to admit, both cases were appealing but...

"Jack, I have to go with Tom here," I interrupted.

"Thank you, Alex!" Tom rolled his eyes, looking grateful that someone had finally agreed with him.

I continued, "We haven't had taco night in a while and I need something to make me forget that sad excuse of dinner he brought home last night."

"Hey!"

Jack sighed dramatically. "Okay, okay. Why don't I get some Subway or something and then tomorrow I'll run to the store after class?"

"Sounds fair," I told him, grinning.

Tom and I were more than grateful that Jack was around and he knew it. Having been born and raised in America, Jack had grown up learning to cook and fend for himself in preparation for when his grandma wasn't around anymore, the only relative who'd really cared for him as a child. When she passed away two and a half years ago, he packed up his bags and moved here to the UK to be with the only family he had left and continue his studies. Then, after he became a new kid at Brookland and accidentally kicked a soccer ball into Tom's face, we became friends.

When a phone rang in another room and Jack went to answer it, Tom looked up at me with a thoughtful expression. "Hey, have you heard from Addie yet?"

Hearing her name, I tensed reflexively and then forced myself to relax. Addie was a government agent just as I had once been and naturally it made me nervous when we went more than a few days without talking. Of course, she wasn't working on any cases right now, especially not after the unfortunate chain of events that had unfolded almost two months ago, but that didn't mean she was off the radar. Any spy, in and out of the field, couldn't lock their door and expect to be safe. It didn't work that way.

Shaking my head, I sighed, "No, I haven't. I can't imagine what she would be doing that would keep her so busy." Reaching for my Sidekick, I slid the screen open and found no awaiting messages or missed calls.

"Well, she _did _just go to a funeral not long ago... Maybe she needs her space."

"Tom, I know her. This isn't something she would need space for." I turned to squint at him. "Don't you remember? She called me at midnight in tears after the funeral and I didn't get off the phone until nearly two hours later."

My best friend shrugged and nodded. "I do remember. If it had been a normal chat, I might've wrestled you to the ground and said good night to her myself."

I rolled my eyes. "And what makes you think you could successfully accomplish that?"

"Mind over matter, my friend, mind over matter."

Before I could reply with something witty, my phone began buzzing. In a flash I had it to my ear, not bothering to check the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Alex. It's me."

Tom's eyes met mine and I could sense his curiosity. "Are you all right?" I asked.

"I... I don't know." Her voice sounded distant and slightly out of breath. If I didn't know her, I barely would have taken note of the sniffles she was trying to conceal... but I did.

"Addie, what's happened?"

A pause. "I kind of... well, I sort of, might have run away from home..."

"What?"

"Yeah... I'm—I'm in the car right now..."

"Are you driving?"

I might have come off as a bit too incredulous because she was quickly saying, "_No, _no, I'm not. I, um, I'm at McDonald's, actually... The one by school. I just parked in the parking lot."

Taking a deep breath, I leaned back in my chair and asked her to tell me what had happened.

She first began by asking if I remembered the big group discussion that included us, her team, parents, and the heads of the CIA before I'd left for England. I eventually realized that the reason she was establishing the known fact that everyone knew she was going to work in Los Angeles was one thing: her parents didn't want her to be a spy anymore.

But I let her continue on, hearing about the rather cruel words being thrown back and forth between her and her mother. I bit back anything that wanted to come out of my mouth, more out of safety than respect.

When she finally reached the end of her story, I allowed myself a moment to think. There were a thousand burning questions in my mind that I had refrained from asking while she talked but now I was having trouble deciding where I wanted to start.

"You know, we never got to go here. To McDonald's, I mean," Addie mused.

The memory was more than clear. The original plan had been to get ice cream at the McDonald's down the street from school. Instead, we arrived at the complicated yet delicate subject of our spy lives. She had confided in me the truth about her older brother and how he'd died. I'd comforted her and, for once, felt as connected to any other human being as I possibly could with the things I'd seen at fourteen years old.

"Let's make it a date next time," I told her, hoping the light-heartedness would help things.

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"I wish you were here."

Those few words softly spoken by her sent a pang of hurt and longing through me. In my mind's eye I could see her sitting in the car with her knees pulled up to her chest and phone pressed tightly against her ear... I saw her green eyes brimming with tears and—

Swallowing hard, I shoved the image away and focused on the only thing I could do thousands of miles away.

"I know, Addie, I do too," I reassured her quietly, wishing there was some way I could reach through the phone for her. "Believe me, if I could go to you right this moment..." I shut my eyes and breathed deeply.

She sniffed and her voice was trembling as she asked, "What should I do?"

Pressing my lips together, I debated whether or not to tell her what I thought. After she was nearly killed by her unit leader, and then had to cope with not only his betrayal but his death as well, it was reasonable that I, along with her parents, was not particularly thrilled with Addie continuing her work down in California. We were very well aware that she was highly ambitious and would stop at nothing to bring good into the world while kicking evil's ass, but perhaps she needed a different outlet... one that didn't involve the government and international criminals.

"I can't tell you what to do, Addie," I finally told her. "But let me ask you this..." I paused, hoping I wasn't approaching deep water. "What would Joshua tell you?"

There was silence on the other end. After several long seconds I was afraid that I'd gone too far.

"Addie, I'm—"

"I should follow my heart," she said. She then let out a light laugh, an airy sound that was like sunlight peeking behind the thick clouds of her previous distress. "As cheesy as that is... that's what he would have said to me. 'Follow your heart, little sis'..."

I found myself smiling a little and just as I opened my mouth to speak, she abruptly said, "I've gotta go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay. I miss you."

"I miss you more. Bye."

And then the line went dead.

I sat there for a moment and then put the phone down. A square picture propped against the lamp on my desk caught my eye and I took it in my fingers. It was a Polaroid photo of Addie and me the day before I'd left Virginia when Ben Daniels and I had visited her family. She'd insisted that everyone take pictures and was eager to leave us with memoirs of what good memories she could put together. Ben had politely complied and I was unable to help but feel obligated to do as she wished.

Each time looking at the picture usually brought on a torrent of bittersweet memories, many of which I could kill half an hour thinking about. This moment was no exception.

This conversation with her only intensified the flashbacks and the feelings of guilt, anger, and pain we had to endure last month... her more than me. Back in April my life had been almost the exact same way it was at this moment: arguing over who was responsible for dinner, balancing school and work, playing soccer, trying my hardest to enjoy life as an ex-spy... What was different now? Not only was I a former MI6 agent, but my girlfriend was currently working for the CIA back in the United States. I feared for her life everyday... and protecting her was how we'd first met.

MI6 has a knack for surprises. In early May I had practically been "kidnapped" by Mrs. Jones and Ben Daniels, aka Fox from my Brecon Beacons days. Despite my admittedly less-than-stellar attempts to refuse, I was sucked into going to America and being appointed Addie's secret bodyguard after an assignment gone wrong. Someone had tried to take her out by blowing up a gas station... and that same someone worked for the man who'd killed her brother: Adrian Castillo.

Four weeks passed both slowly and quickly, depending on how you looked at it. Our relationship at first had been a cautious friendship; she suspected Ben and I weren't there just for some MI6 field trip as we'd told her, and I was having trouble getting over the fact that my spy life had caught up with me, all because of this blind, self-righteous teenage girl.

Then I realized that pushing away and avoiding the one person who could relate to me the most in the entire world did more damage than good. My parents had died when I was too young; her brother was killed just two years ago. I watched Jack Starbright die before my eyes; Addie learned that her friend and team leader had tried to trade her life to save his... but I watched him die too. We didn't find out his betrayal until after Addie's house was set on fire and her parents were found to be missing. Though I can't forget when I came clean to her about why I'd come to Virginia in the first place. I hadn't gone undercover as an exchange student at her school, slept next door to her bedroom, stayed by her side twenty-four-seven because I was doing research as an MI6 operative... My job had been to protect her. And she had hated that.

But the worst part was that I'd let her believe I kissed her as part of my cover... and that was one of the most genuine, honest things I'd done the entire four weeks I was there.

Even as she refused to look at me or speak to me after my confession, we worked with the CIA to find her parents and capture Mather, the man we thought had been behind it all. In Mexico, there was supposed to be an exchange between us and him. He would hand over her parents and Addie and I would give ourselves up.

Of course, I had only learned from the best.

As according to my plan, we faked Addie's death with two shots from our sniper once Joseph and Margot were safe. Even while I had known it was coming, I never wanted to see her hit the ground like that ever again. To this day I compared her "death" to the same one I had seen my father perform while being passed from the CIA to Scorpia so long ago.

Heaving a big sigh, I rubbed at my eyes as I pictured clearly the minute I had realized David Reyes was not the leader desperate to protect his youngest team member that we'd all thought he was. I remembered my blood running cold when he pointed his gun at me for the very first time.

"How is she?"

Tom was at the door with a sort of knowing expression on his face and seeing him fast-forwarded time to the present. I hadn't noticed that he'd left while I was on the phone and I certainly wasn't sure how much time had passed since I began reminiscing.

I shrugged, feeling the memories clouding my mind fade away. "Got into a bit of an argument with her folks about working in California."

"Yeah? What did you say?"

"I didn't want to tell her I want her to quit..." Twirling a pencil between my fingers (recently a nervous habit of mine), I added in a low voice, "That's not what she wants to hear."

Tom didn't say anything for a moment. Then: "So what's she gonna do?"

"Don't know. She got off quickly without telling me."

I could feel his gaze on me. "You haven't told her yet, have you?" he asked suddenly.

The pencil stopped twirling. I knew exactly what he meant by that but it was nothing that I was in the mood to even think about. "No."

Tom, thankfully, recognized a hands-off topic when he came near one. "She'll be fine, Alex," he opted to say.

"I know." My tone wasn't convincing and no doubt he could tell.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You going to be all right?" He was looking at me with a genuinely concerned expression and I silently thanked the world that we were friends.

"Yeah," I told him, half-forcing a smile. I looked back down at the photo, gazing into my own eyes. They were still the same dark brown but not as serious as they used to be; there was some light, just like in the green ones of her's. "I think so."

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**Note: **Hope that was decent! Please please review, tell me what you liked and didn't like, give me some feedback to use so I can write future chapters better. Thanks :)


	4. Chapter 3 - Love, David

Chapter Three - Love, David

-Addie-

As soon as I heard the door bell ring, I had the sudden urge to turn on my heel and bolt out of there. I could be gone before anyone answered the door. Besides, I was stupid to come here; what did I think would be solved if I showed up to this place?...

It was too late anyway. I'd spent those few precious moments I could have used to escape having an internal battle with myself and now the door was open and Amelia Reyes was standing there holding an awfully tiny newborn asleep in her arms.

For some reason she didn't seem surprised to see me. "Addie," she greeted, giving the smallest of smiles.

Swallowing hard, I managed to say, "Amelia... I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I, um, I just w-wanted to..."

In truth, I really didn't know why I was there. Towards the end of my phone call to Alex, I'd been thinking about David (again) and Amelia had come to mind. Something in me drove me to hang up and find my way to her house. That same something propelled me to walk up her driveway and ring her door bell... though now it had yet to tell me why I was even there.

When she realized I wasn't going to finish my sentence, she asked, "Why don't you come on in?" and moved aside.

Forcing a smile, I stepped into the house and followed the widow to her living room.

I had been in this home several times and today it had never felt more foreign and unfamiliar. Everything was still in its place: the leather couches were still there, home to Super Bowl Sundays when our team and David's friends came over for nachos and beer; family and vacation photos hung in their usual places across the walls, their locations ranging from Mexico, where David had been born, to here in Virginia; there were the occasional Mexican trinkets and carved wooden figures or dolls that sat in cupboards or by the fireplace. It certainly still smelled faintly of cinnamon potpourri, a slight obsession of Amelia's. There was now a baby swing in the corner where a side table used to be.

The only real difference was the atmosphere. It was a heavy absence that hung in the air, a thick and dark cloud that must have been smothering Amelia since her husband had died. Though one window was open, I felt a chill, and I knew it wasn't the light breeze passing through.

"Make yourself comfortable." She seated herself in the rocking chair across from me. "And don't worry about Matthew, he's a heavy sleeper."

At first I had no clue who she was talking about but then watched as she gazed adoringly down at the bundle in her arms. "He's beautiful," I said quietly.

Amelia smiled sadly, not looking away from her baby. "He looks a lot like David."

I'd never known her too well and for good reason. Working for the government, you could never be too careful about who knew what you did. Even as his wife, she didn't even know exactly what it was that David had done for a living but perhaps someone had already informed her by now... There was no longer a reason to protect him.

I hadn't been allowed to spend too much time with my team members outside of the office. As a minor starting out on this job, I could only be introduced as knowing David, Julia, and Brian through my brother, who was a former member of the unit. To those on the outside, there was no harm in me knowing Joshua's co-workers, right? And so Amelia was oblivious to the fact that I didn't just come over for dinner sometimes and watch the Olympics or Super Bowl... She was unaware that I also trained and caught criminals next to these people.

But I found no reason to pretend losing him didn't hurt me as much as it did.

Feeling a lump form in my throat, I contemplated what I was going to say. I still hadn't found what I'd come here for and didn't want to make this woman feel like I was wasting her time.

"How have you been holding up?"

"Me?" I was startled that she had asked. "I should be asking you that." _You're the one who's loved him and cared for him in a way I never could have done._

Amelia laughed a little but it didn't sound artificial at all. "Well..." She thought for a moment and continued, "All I can tell you is that I'm taking it day by day." And it was then that I got a good look at her.

It almost seemed as if she'd gotten a couple years older in the past few weeks. Her usually neat, dark and wavy hair was slightly disheveled and strands of it hung around an exhausted, sleep-deprived face. Even her skin looked paler, like she hadn't seen sunlight for months. But what stood out most were her eyes; from where I sat it was easy to see them foggy with grief, uncried tears, and pain. Confusion. Loss.

"I'm leaving." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Her eyebrows raised the slightest bit. "You are?"

"Um, yeah. To California for college," I explained hesitantly. When was this intense discomfort going to go away?

"That's exciting."

"It is."

Silence.

"When are you leaving?" she then asked. I wondered if she actually cared or was just trying to fill the silence. If it was the latter, I didn't blame her.

"Thursday."

Now she really looked surprised. "Wow, so soon. Do you know what you'll be studying?"

Staring down at my Converse, I replied, "I'm not dead set on it but right now I've decided to do international relations and maybe public health."

"That's great."

I pursed my lips together, unsure of what to say.

"What are you thinking, Addie?"

Amelia was watching me carefully, her eyes never straying from my face. I knew I couldn't tell her much, let alone the real, rough, uncut version of what had gone down in Mexico, but I couldn't lie either. It was hard to tell whether or not what I wanted to say would hurt her, though by now I should have learned that being able to control outcomes is only a work against nature.

"I've been lucky to have some really inspiring people in my life," I began tentatively, not meeting her gaze. "My parents are my biggest heroes. They taught me almost everything I know. I really don't know where I'd be without them. And Joshua..." I could almost feel myself smiling. "I looked up to him. A lot. He was my role model." _He _is_ your role model_, a small voice told me.

"Friends," I continued with a grin, "can be some of the greatest people you know. Sometimes it's just their charm or sense of humor that inspires you or motivates you to do great things." The faces of my three best friends—Kylie, Arianna, and Derek—drifted into mind.

Forcing myself to go on, I met Amelia's eyes and added, "David was one of those people." She didn't respond so I went on, "Because of him, I saw every reason I should strive for great things and reach beyond my full potential..."

"Because he didn't believe that people had limited potential," Amelia cut in.

I gave her a smile. "Exactly. And so... I guess I decided to tell you this because I didn't want to leave here without letting you know how David affected me in such a positive way." My voice faltered briefly before the word _positive_ but she didn't seem to notice.

In fact, she didn't say anything at all. Her eyes were on me, intense and verging on frightening. I was wracking my brain for something else to say when she finally spoke. "Come with me. I'd like to show you something."

Cautiously, I stood up to follow her out of the living room and down the hall to the master bedroom. Everything was neat and tidied and I wasn't sure whether or not to feel surprised that she was keeping things clean despite everything. After laying Matthew in the crib that was in the corner, Amelia brought me over to a tall dresser adorned with framed pictures and souvenirs. Out of the top drawer she pulled out what looked like a small notebook. Once she handed it to me, I could better see that it was a moleskine notebook crafted from reddish brown leather.

"This was supposed to be your graduation present," she explained in a soft voice, "but I never got the chance to get it to you. David bought it from that little antiques store not too far from here. He wrote a note for you inside."

As I went to open it, she wrapped her fingers over mine and, while making sure to look me in the eye, said, "Read it when you're alone. I think it'll help you figure things out." She smiled warmly.

Though I was unsure by what she meant, I nodded. "Okay. I'll do that." Then I took a deep breath and added, "Thank you. This... this means a lot, you giving this to me."

Amelia gave a tiny shrug, still smiling. "It's the least I can do."

I wasn't sure what else to say, so I decided it was time to go. I may not have figured out completely the reason I needed to be there but I was beginning to feel the effects of what could be closure. It wasn't something I knew would come tomorrow or the next day but coming here had to have been a step. And I was curious to see what David had written inside.

She escorted me back to the front door. Pausing on the porch, I turned back to her and smiled as best I could. "Thanks again. It was nice seeing you and... well..."

She must've sensed that I couldn't fathom what would be a proper farewell because she took over. "You too, sweetheart. I hope everything goes well for you." Clasping my hands in hers, she said, "I know you'll be wonderful in whatever you do."

And then she hugged me. I returned the gesture and said one last "Goodbye" before heading to the car. But I wasn't going home, not yet; I stopped in a guest parking space at the end of the street where I knew she wouldn't see me and picked up the moleskine. Its leather felt delicate and worn but when I opened it up, I saw that the ivory pages were smooth and very new. On the inside flap were these words neatly written in black ink:

_**What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. - Ralph Waldo Emerson**_

And folded and taped to the first page was a piece of regular lined notebook paper. I recognized David's scrawl and could feel my heart beginning to race in anticipation. My hands were shaking slightly as I began to read his last words to me.

_Addie,_

_Congrats! You're officially a high school graduate. That means you're old and life starts now. Or maybe that's when you turn 40... Either way, you've got a lot ahead of you and it doesn't hurt to start now. In fact, it seems you started earlier than most; I don't think I've ever met a more impassioned, driven 16 year old girl with as much determination and vision like you._

_And I guess I still think of you that way. Even as you're a legal adult who's gaining more and more responsibilities every day and heading off to college, I still see that same teenager who reminded me of the wonderful young man I knew as your brother. Both aspirational kids who could do amazing things._

_So don't you forget that. I know that you're a girl who gets cooped up in her head and sometimes forgets to step out, but I also know that when you do come out of your shell, it's truly a miracle. You've endured some of the greatest pain any human being can experience and you may fear that it happens again, but I'm here to tell you that those things are nothing next to who you really are. You have always been an intelligent, funny, talented person and that can only help you to achieve your dreams._

_Whenever you're feeling under the weather or think that those shameless thoughts and emotions that haunt your mind are coming back again, turn to this little guy here. Sure, call it a diary, a journal, whatever you want, but use it to let out all that busyness I know that goes on in your head. Don't let it-or anything else for that matter-take over you and tear you down. Release it, and don't be afraid to come to me or those close to you for help. That's what we're here for._

_And although I have more to say, I know I can't say it all, not if I want to gain feeling back into my hand. Just know that you are surrounded by people who love you and love you for you. While you're out there chasing your dreams, we will be on the sidelines rooting for you all the way. You've got this, Addie. I'll see you at the finish line._

_Love,_

_David_

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**Note:** I feel like perhaps I've got a built-in, automatic, implied apologizer... apologist? Apologizerist? Bleh, I need to go to bed. I planned on making this short chapter quite a bit longer but my amygdala (that little brain structure that controls your emotions) told me it felt right to cut it short after David's letter. Yeeppppppp.

Btw, Ralph Waldo Emerson = awesome! :D If you agree & know what I'm talkin about, you are awesome as well. If you don't... well, you're awesome for reading this fic anyway (;


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